


something in the air

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Episode: s01e15 Yes Men, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You said she spoke to you, <i>touched</i> you,” Sif presses, coming still closer and Grant’s ribs seize as his lungs close up. “Never, in all the Nine Realms, has there been a man who could resist Lorelei’s voice as well as her touch. How did you do it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	something in the air

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for this. I'd like to blame it on shineyma since I was talking to her when I had the idea, but I'm pretty sure this is my own fault.

“How do they feel?” Jemma asks in between frowns thrown at his steadily bruising ribs.

The honest answer - dented - will only make the frown worse, so Grant rolls his shoulders back gingerly and says, “Sore, but I’ll live.”

“You were thrown through a wall by an Asgardian,” Skye says from her spot next to Fitz against his lab table. “Not _into_ a wall,” she adds in case he missed the subtlety, “ _through_ the wall. By an _Asgardian_.”

“We get it, Skye,” Coulson says. He throws Sif a look like he’s worried she’s gonna be offended, but she only keeps on giving Grant that frown she’s had on since they dug him out of the rubble. “Ward?”

He sighs and cuts the gesture off early because it _hurts_ and because Jemma’s too busy fussing with her gizmos to see. “I hate to admit it,” he says, “but it’s probably the worst hit I’ve ever taken.” Jemma whirls, horror written plain on her face. “But I’ll live.”

She makes a noise that’s sure to mean trouble for him later.

“Good,” Sif says, stepping forward finally, “then you can explain what happened out there.”

Jemma backs away as Sif approaches, stopping only when she reaches Grant’s side and he catches her with a hand at her back. She’s stiff and trying to look like she’s only busy at her work. Honestly, he envies her that she can look away.

“The escaped prisoner backhanded me into a wall,” he says, “I thought it was pretty self-explanatory.”

“You said she spoke to you, _touched_ you,” Sif presses, coming still closer and Grant’s ribs seize as his lungs close up. “Never, in all the Nine Realms, has there been a man who could resist Lorelei’s voice as well as her touch. How did you do it?”

Jemma’s hands on his side go soft, tentative, and he looks down at her bowed head. She was worried when he went with the others on this mission - understandable; no one wants to watch their boyfriend walk into battle against a woman who enslaves men with her voice - and he can see those worries flaring back up.

“Could it be because of the two of you?” Coulson asks. “Because you’re…?” He makes a gesture with his hand meant to sum up the two of them. Grant figures he’s trying to reference the whole werewolf thing without actually saying so in front of the alien.

“Mated,” May fills in when neither of them answer immediately.

Both he and Jemma let out deep breaths and his gasp of pain when his ribs spasm has her glaring.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he says.

She scoffs and resumes applying a bandage to the cut under his arm.

“To answer your question,” she says haughtily - a tone meant more for him than the others, he’s sure, “Ward and I are not _mated_. We _have_ , naturally, but that doesn’t mean we’re-” She scoffs again. “We’re not _animals_.”

Skye mutters something that Grant’s pretty sure is “most of the time” but it’s too soft for even him to hear. She’s gotten better at judging that; he’s impressed. That doesn’t mean he won’t be going a little extra hard on her later as punishment for the comment, but still, it’s impressive.

“ _How_ then?” Sif demands in the silence that follows.

“I felt … something,” Grant admits and Jemma’s fingers press harder than is necessary to the stinging cut. “Part of me definitely wanted her.”

“I can guess which part,” Fitz says. He means it to be quiet, but he’s not as adept as Skye at keeping it low enough he can’t make it out. Which is kind of scary, really; how has he survived so long around Jemma?

“But,” Grant goes on, shooting a look Fitz’s way, “I just-” He pulls a face and shakes his head.

The others, Sif especially, don’t seem satisfied with his explanation, but Jemma’s sympathetic. Her fingers are gentle again and she’s making a pouty little face where the others can’t see. He lets himself smile at her about-face before turning his attention back to Sif, who’s looking ready to send him through another wall if he doesn’t do better than that. Well, if she insists.

“It’s just,” he says slowly, “Asgardians … you smell _really_ bad.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jemma sighs, heading for the cabinets.

“ _What_ ,” Sif asks levelly, but Jemma’s already back with a bottle and two rags. She soaks each quickly and presses one to Grant’s face. The smell isn’t _good_ , but it’s better than getting whiffs of Sif every time she moves or breathes in their direction.

“It’s not your fault,” Jemma says, voice muffled by the rag, “it’s just, well…”

“If you were injured and easy pickings,” Grant says, “I wouldn’t eat you.”

It’s a testament to how much Jemma’s been suffering since Sif came on board that she only nods solemnly instead of calling him out for being rude.

“Seriously?” Skye asks, sounding delighted. She never fails to have fun when his and Jemma’s condition comes up.

“Wolves are canines,” Jemma says to Sif, “they rely on their sense of smell the way humans rely on sight. It stands to reason that Lorelei’s powers wouldn’t be able to overcome it. If she wasn’t physically attractive, no purely human man would ever fall under her … spell,” she finishes, obviously annoyed that she let herself use that turn of phrase.

Sif still looks confused and Fitz and Skye are clearly trying to hold back laughter.

“Sir?” Grant asks, a hint of begging in his voice.

“You two are dismissed,” Coulson says, waving them away. Grant’s got them out the door and halfway down the ramp before he even gets to, “Fitz needs to work on the collar anyway.”

Grant keeps them going with a firm hand around Jemma’s arm until they’re on solid ground and breathing fresh air. Once there, they both burst into laughter as they drop the rags from their mouths.

“You insulted an alien,” Grant says.

“No worse than you did!” She snatches the rag from his hand and tosses them both onto the ramp to be picked up later. Then she turns towards the horizon and takes a deep, _deep_ breath. “I can’t believe you survived the car ride out to the bar.”

“I held my breath a _lot_.” He loosens his hold on her, but tugs her towards one of the extra vans SHIELD sent along with all the extra, completely useless, men.

“Where are we going?” Jemma asks, leaning into his touch.

“We’ve been dismissed,” he says, “and I need some distance from her ladyship. Joyride?”

“Skye will stereotype us. Dogs and cars and all that.” The smile on her face says she doesn’t much care.

“I’ll make her run laps around the Bus tonight. She’ll be too tired to tease.” He helps her into the passenger seat of the van - the agents that came with it were smart enough to disperse when they saw them coming.

“You’re cruel!” she calls out the open window while he rounds the bumper.

He pulls the driver’s side door open. “You love me.”

She rests her head against the seat. “I really, really do.” It’s not the first time she’s said it, but it makes his heart swell the same way it did all those months ago. “Now let’s hurry before Coulson decides he needs us. I can’t bear to get within sniffing distance of an Asgardian again so soon.”

He barks out a laugh - something he only lets himself do when it’s just the two of them - and throws the van in gear.

 


End file.
